


liquid

by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes



Series: understanding [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sad Jaskier | Dandelion, Self-Esteem Issues, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, and GERALT LOVES JASKIER!!, awkward attempts to help your friend carry whatever burdens he has, homemade therapy, no magical healing kiss but there is a kiss!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes/pseuds/theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes
Summary: Geralt is awkward, clunky, trying to use a sword where a butterknife would work just as well. He’s trying, and for Jaskier, and the thought makes that hard, angry lump soften. Just a little.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: understanding [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603279
Comments: 107
Kudos: 1103
Collections: Best Geralt





	liquid

**Author's Note:**

> someone name my fics for me? i was going to use lyrics from drunken lament by ludo again but then i remembered that the other two titles in the series were one word and it feels wrong to change it up on the third fic lmaooo i hope u like this tho

When Jaskier is healed up and restless, they leave the little room above the inn. 

He’s not allowed to ride Roach- “unfair,” he tells Geralt, and Geralt hmms- but their pace is very, very slow. It’s good to stretch his legs, anyways, and he knows that if he collapses he’ll wake up on the horse’s back, which is nice. 

Just.

Geralt’s eyes are on him _all the damn time_. Jaskier had woken up and hadn’t been alone and that had been lovely, but since then- ever fucking since, and it’s been over a week- he’s felt that gold burning into his back. He has tried- failed _miserably_ , but _tried_ \- to convince Geralt that he’s just fine, it was a mistake, he’s terribly sorry for implying that he wants to be not-alive or whatever, but _gods_. The Witcher is practically his shadow. Constantly fucking watching, constantly fucking _sniffing_ , which is weird and makes Jaskier nervous. And he _knows_ -

Something. Jaskier isn’t know what he knows, but he knows, and that makes him pissed off and unhappy. Everything is making him pissed off and unhappy. He feels like the main character in a stupid dramatic tragedy. He can’t redirect the godsdamned attention. 

(Attention is wonderful when it is general and painful as a brand when he’s singled out.)

He hates it, and he _hates_ it, and he becomes sullen with it when his false cheer is brushed off. So now both of them are grumpy as anything, and they don’t _talk_ , Geralt just watches and Jaskier pretends not to notice, and. 

_Fuck_. 

“What do you _want_?” Jaskier finally explodes, two days in, sitting with his arms and legs crossed tight to his body by the fire. When Geralt just gives him a steady, considering look, he could _scream_. “Fucking _gods_ , Geralt, what do you _want_ , can you just-” 

“Not yet,” says Geralt, evenly, which means he _is_ going to speech at him eventually, and that pisses Jaskier off so much he flops painfully down onto his bedroll and pretends to sleep. 

Being mad at people is... not Jaskier’s strong suit. But there’s a flickering little flame deep in his belly, and Geralt keeps up his watching, and Jaskier manages it all the way into the next town, wherein he ditches his Witcher and seeks out trouble in the form of the innkeep’s daughter. Then he seeks out trouble in the form of the innkeep’s son. Then he seeks out trouble in the form of the innkeep’s wife. He’d go for the innkeep as well, but Jaskier’s coming back from his lovely dalliance with the wife when Geralt grabs him by the arm and drags him to the stables. Also, the guy’s old. 

Three days in that town. Jaskier has torn his stitches twice, which he’s a _little_ bit proud of, and Geralt’s looking has turned to glaring. 

Continuing onwards. 

Jaskier would part ways with Geralt, because they do that kind of thing and he hasn’t had a chance to properly lick his wounds, but Geralt doesn’t seem terribly keen on the idea. He finds Jaskier when it’s time to leave whatever place they’ve stayed in, drags him out by his ear. A whole _month_ of this. Two. Jaskier’s belly heals but new scrapes appear to pick at. He gets into fights and Geralt pulls him bodily away with a massive forearm hooked under his armpits. 

He hasn’t felt rested in weeks. Months, if he’s being honest. That unhappy emptiness has grown, fire licking at his fingers and toes and making him jumpy. Geralt had called him a good man, said he wouldn’t like to do this without him, and Jaskier replays his words in his head at night and- 

They make him mad. They piss him _off_. What the fuck does Geralt know? They are never going to bring it up again and that’s good, Jaskier doesn’t want to talk about it, but it makes him so _angry_. Pretending like this for a _bard._ It’s like the werewolf sliced him open and put something angry and sick inside where there was nothing, nestled right next to his heart. A hard ball that makes his jaw clench tight. 

He pretends and he pretends and he pretends. Sometimes when he’s pretending to be happy he feels it, but all of the time he hates it. Jaskier isn’t angry, he is funny, he is comedic, he is a break from a harsh world. He is trembling at night, fingernails biting into his palms, scratching at a scab from a month ago. He thinks if he leaves he might be happier and he thinks if he leaves he might-

He doesn’t like to think about what he might do, but it’s the kind of uneasy, frightened fascination one gets when they watch someone else die. (He might sit in the forest and waste. He might mess with the wrong woman on purpose and stand still when he’s run through. He might walk and keep walking until he falls. He might start screaming and never stop.)

Is he going mad? He might be. He must be. 

He doesn’t leave. 

-

Two and a half months of feeling like about to pot bubble over on the stove. They’ve stopped for the night. Geralt is quiet and Jaskier has his lute out, plucking at the strings so hard they feel sharp against his calloused fingers. He hits a wrong note, swears, almost stomps his foot and then decides that that’s stupid. Geralt clears his throat. 

Jaskier glances up, sharp and irritable, and feels a little bad when he sees the look on the Witcher’s face. He looks-

Well. Jaskier hasn’t looked at him in a while, too busy stewing. Geralt doesn’t look entirely as stoic as he usually does, even with his jaw clenched like he’s about to go into battle. Still. “What,” Jaskier snaps, and Geralt clears his throat again. 

“You haven’t been well,” Geralt says, sounding like he’s picking his words very carefully. Jaskier scoffs, and he squares his shoulders and continues. “Jaskier. You haven’t been well. I’ve talked to a healer-”

“You’ve fucking what,” says Jaskier, and feels bad _again_ , because he can tell Geralt is just trying to help, but he is just so _angry_. He feels eleven years old, locked in his room at boarding school, looking out of the unbarred window and thinking _I am going to go, I am going to go, I am going to get the fuck out of here, I hate who I am and what I am and so I am going to change it all and start from the beginning_. Except he doesn’t want to restart the whole world, just- maybe himself. 

“Jaskier,” the Witcher snaps- his fists are clenched, white knuckled around the sword he’d been cleaning. “ _Listen_. I talked to a damn healer. She said-” he hesitates and doesn’t fidget. Look like he’s grown out from the stump he’s sitting on for all his movement. “You need to talk to me.” 

He laughs. He can’t help it. “I’m so fucking _mad_ all the time and it has _nothing to do with you_ ,” he snaps. Those brows go low over those golden eyes. 

“Jaskier-” 

“Stop saying my _name_ ,” Jaskier snaps, so loudly that unflappable Roach shifts a little away from him. Geralt is still as stone. He breathes in, out, in, feels that hard rock in his chest by his heart. This isn’t making him feel better- seeing that look on Geralt’s face, the furrow in the brow that means worry, the set of the shoulders that means battle, the white knuckles that means his Witcher is afraid. Jaskier slumps, slowly, bringing a hand up to massage at his temples. It does nothing for his headache. And he’s still pissed, just. Tired. “I’m sorry,” he says, after a long pause. 

Geralt is silent for a long, long moment. “I can’t fix you,” he says, eventually, and when Jaskier opens his mouth he snaps a hand up, open palmed, as beseeching as Jaskier has ever seen him. “I swear, bard, let me _finish_ \- I asked if it was a curse. She said whatever you have is in your mind. I can’t give you a potion. I still... she said I should make you talk to me, and that it would help.” The speech is long, for Geralt. Jaskier’s jaw is clenched so tight he feels his teeth might shatter but his heart is clenching too, at the idea of Geralt going to a healer and asking about him. At the big, scary Witcher willing, wanting to listen and talk about _feelings_. All for Jaskier.

“I’m fine,” he says, anyways, and goes to sleep. 

-

Except. 

Once when he drinks too much, and Geralt is putting him grumpily to bed, he puts a hand on that chest and says “just let me sleep on the floor”. And Geralt asks why the fuck he’d want to do that, and Jaskier bursts into tears and starts babbling on about something silly, something stupid, something he doesn’t try to remember in the morning, and Geralt listens. Like, properly listens. Absorbs it like it’s information vital to one of his monster hunts, or like he’s talking to Yennefer about magical politics or whatever they talk about in between rounds.

And when he wakes up in the morning, grumpy and hungover, he feels just a tiny, tiny bit lighter, and Geralt looks pleased with him. But it’s embarrassing and he doesn’t need to _talk_ , so he avoids it, until one night- 

Well. 

It’s gradual and Jaskier is sure to not let _everything_ slip, because he runs his mouth too much but he’s not about to admit to some things. But he, like. Tells Geralt that sometimes he feels completely hollowed out inside, and Geralt just hums thoughtfully and says: “tell me how to help.” 

He’s awkward, clunky, trying to use a sword where a butterknife would work just as well. He’s trying, and for _Jaskier_ , and the thought makes that hard lump soften. Just a little.

-

Bad days are when Jaskier is quiet, now, not so much when he’s angry. When all he can do is trudge along behind his Witcher and his horse. But Geralt coaxes him into talking, gold eyes softened to liquid. So caring it hurts when he hears people say that Witchers don’t have hearts- it makes him want to yell, to scream. He writes a song instead. Plays it loud and cheerful and in their faces.

-

Jaskier kisses Geralt, and it doesn’t fix him but it makes his world brighter. 

-

Bad days are when Jaskier is quiet, when he curls up in Geralt’s lap and puts his face in his shoulder. It’s okay- there is quiet, and then a heavy hand pressed large and comforting against the small of his back. A deep, smooth voice. Bad days are sometimes dark and dreary and exhausting but they are always grounded by liquid gold. A luxury, a given, a comfort warm as a blanket. 

Geralt’s awkward, hopeful efforts. 

Even his bad days have light when he looks up. 

**Author's Note:**

> "for falconeye who said "But damn this must seem like something completely different to Geralt. I’d love to read if he and Jaskier ever finally talk about it!", the second half of which i apparently just. did not read somehow?? but it will Come" it has come!!! theyve talked about it. ive cried about it. i hope u like it!!!
> 
> if u DO shoot me a prompt or smth on tumblr at redjewelsforeyes.tumblr.com i will worship the ground you stand on
> 
> also pls leave me a comment i will give u a lock of my hair to do with what you will
> 
> (also! pls note that these r coming from my own personal experience ((heavily tweaked to project onto jaskier lmfao)) so like. not everyone is this way when depressed! not everyone gets super grumpy. pls dont come for me i am just vibing right now)


End file.
